


A Winter's Interlude

by anesor



Series: Not Quite a Knave of Kirkwall [5]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Intermission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anesor/pseuds/anesor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "A Match to Tinder," Anders and Hawke go to ground in a small village in the mountains.  Bur adjusting when they have finally stopped running for a time is not always simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Winter's Interlude

_This story takes place after the end of “A Match to Tinder.” The Dragon Age world, plot, and canon characters belong to Bioware. Some characters like Dera are my creations. I get no money for writing this sequel._

_\--- x x ---_

**Frostback Mountains, seeking the village of Hallowdingle**

**Anders:**

I woke with a scream in the blackness, a deep ringing echo of a haunting song rattling through the remnants of my dream. Hawke gripped me in a tight embrace and began to stroke my hair as I tried to get some fresh air inside. The metallic stink and foul miasma of my dream began to fade as the chilly tent air outside our blanket nest filled my lungs.

This was the third night in a row that I'd woken from nightmares that I had not missed, since Justice and I had made our original bargain.

 _Why now?_ I asked him, though I got no answer. Putting my arms around her, I told Hawke, “There aren't any darkspawn near here. Just a nightmare...”

“Are you sure, Anders? It keeps happening _so_ often.” She sounded worried.

Several days had passed since Merrill and Sebastian had gone their own directions. Hawke and I were seeking an isolated village to spend the winter, our first real rest since Meredith and Orsino argued in front of Hawke's home. Snow was on the ground most days now and I didn't want to hide too near the more actively used roads west of Lake Calenhad.

Pulling her head against me, I stroked her hair, hoping to calm both of us. “This is what happens to all Wardens, Bethany too. I suppose Vengeance blocking Justice and me from the Fade also blocked the nightmares.”

“It just seems so often... no wonder she's so irritable.” Hawke sounded hopeful at the idea.

I toyed with leaving her that hope, but I knew better. “No, it won't always be this bad. After the Architect died, I went almost three weeks without any nightmares. It had been so many years without them in Kirkwall, that it just seems worse now... ” _I hoped._

She paused a moment before saying sleepily, “Good. It's much too early to get up.”

I didn't want to mention my other fear, that my Calling had been sped up and I had to find a way to leave her up in the light. So I soothed her to sleep while I waited for the darkness to bore me into sleep again.

As we climbed further into the mountains the next morning, Hawke told more stories about her family's hurried moves away from villages near Gwaren because of Bethany's growing talent, if not control of her magic. Lothering ended up as being their last home in hiding, and Hawke's stories featured those lost there: her father and brother.

The Carver she'd spoken to outside Haven a few days ago had been much more mature than in her stories. Her grief for him had not been this raw when I'd met her at the clinic a year later. 

I understood the problems of the family being fugitives in her stories, but I found myself so envious of Bethany again. She'd been protected by the whole family so effectively that she never even _saw_ the inside of a Tower except in battle. Always protected, until the Blight caught her.

Until the Warden and Hawke, _none_ had done that for me. But now Bethany was protected by being a Warden, which would more than suffice for someone without a spirit... someone not me.

But Haring was approaching, and more of Hawke's stories were about that. This year, she wouldn't be pestering Bodahn for non-existent letters from her sister. Hawke didn't even have that hope this year.

Hope had visited me in the Fade, but I couldn't make that happen for Hawke.

Justice was silent on this as he had been quiet since we left the shrine. I could feel that he was still there, but I thought he was almost awkward after what Vengeance had done.

The biggest change outside that improvement with Justice, was that I was again dreaming when I slept; dreams on things that had happened, and nightmares about darkspawn. I hadn't really missed the darkspawn ones, those months at the Vigil had had more than enough. Now I was having them again, even if they were somehow thinner. I hadn't actually had any dreams with demons, at least as far as I could remember. 

_The **very** first time I saw Dera in my dreams was in that sunny cottage I'd sometimes wished for. We had a kind of clinic for me to work in by the tables and shelves, and I realized she was only a dream when children rattled through the common. They brought chaos and noise, yelling for her as Mama. _

_I knew this was a dream, but it was bittersweet one, watching them chatter at her as I continued preparing some salves from habit. These children were named for her missing relatives, including her sister._

I wanted to shake Bethany. Would a letter have been such an effort last Haring?

She had come to help at the end in Kirkwall, but the Gray Warden was not the girl in these tales. Bethany didn't seem to understand that she still had won the prize of freedom from the Chantry and Templars with Hawke's insistence that she live. She was free and uncrippled by their brutal supervision, despite those costs of Joining.

But she had been tainted by an expectation that Hawke could protect her from _everything._ Hawke had too, and her grief at failing Bethany was always worse around Haring.

I wished that I had some useful ideas.

_**No, the injustice was that they had to risk the Blight to avoid Templars.** _

_I don't understand why she changed at her Joining so much, I don't think she's really Varric's idea of Sunshine anymore. Sigrun and Velanna didn't seem to change._ A brief memory of a flower garden blooming high up in Kirkwall, that withered after the Qunari uprising still made me sad.

_**I have no evidence that Oghren did from the Commander's comments.** _

_-Maybe I did, a little, and I think Howe did too._

_**We don't know enough.** _

“You've been quiet, Anders. Everything fine with Justice?” Hawke paused at a steep section of the trail, the weak sunlight glinting off what little of her brown hair was visible outside her hood.

I realized that we hadn't spoken for at least an hour as we thought. “We're fine, Hawke. I was wondering about others who had their Joinings at the Vigil when I did. I've only seen Nathaniel and Sigrun since then.”

“We could go there in spring, if you want. I'm sure there are mages there to check on, too,” Hawke said with a smile in her voice.

“They had a mage underground when I was there,” I agreed. Maybe some of them were still there, Ferelden had not been even close to as harsh as Kirkwall and the crown had extended them a few rights. But had those rights survived after what we'd set off in Kirkwall? I hoped so, but had little idea. 

“Well, we couldn't get much more underground than Orzammar, could we?” Hawke asked with a grin and a look sideways at me as we climbed yet another rise.

I preferred just visiting Sigrun. 

We'd walked some more in the short, winter day before anyone spoke again. Ser Mew was nestled at the back of my neck under a scarf and sleeping. Big Paws sometimes brought odd things for Hawke to look at, or just a stick for her to throw.

“ _ **We need to train.”**_ Justice spoke aloud.

_What? Why didn't you...?_

“ _ **To be more just to you and the mage as well as be more effective, I must remember and practice what I learned from the Commander. The Commander worked with others to be more effective than working alone. That means I must speak about my plans to find their weaknesses and seek improvement.”**_

Hawke looked surprised as she stopped walking and turned to face us. “What kind of training do you want? We're a little thin of teachers right now.”

I felt surprised as well.

“ _ **We need to relearn, as much was lost these years. I fought with sword there, and the mage learned the principles as well. The book that the young Keeper copied had been studied by him there before the dead dwarf took it.”**_

“Hey, wait! I read it because I was curious and there really wasn't anything else to read at the Vigil aside from account books and boring diaries of Nathaniel's relatives.” I had never planned to actually _practice_ those skills when I read about them, I _liked_ my robes. “A staff is more useful than a sword, too.”

The irritation from Justice was so familiar. _**“You must have learned at least some of it, because you have done magic while in armor after we left Kirkwall.”**_

Hawke was staring at us with wide eyes. I could feel myself smile partially, but I wasn't sure which of us it was.

“I thought that was from Vengeance...” Then I realized how stupid that sounded, he was more a blood mage in skills and personality. Justice had been a warrior again in the Fade.

Hawke had moved close enough for a hug, her green eyes encouraging. “You can do anything, love. You healed me in armor, I don't think that would have been Vengeance.”

Ser Mew dug his claws into my shoulders as I bent to kiss her. I sighed, and then asked Justice aloud so Hawke could hear. “What do you think we need?”

“ _ **An open space, protected from the weather to practice in. Your muscles are inexperienced if I need to act.”**_

“I am still a mage and I doubt any amount of practice would make me that effective with pointy objects. We have been fighting for mages to be accepted, not for us to pretend to be warriors.” Now I was the one annoyed.

Grazing her fingers against our cheek, Hawke was smiling faintly. “For emergencies or when we want to stay more hidden. You're still my mage.”

“Hmmph.” I wasn't sure if she was humoring me or Justice.

He took control, and reached out to seize the huge and intimidating sword off her back with one arm still around her. _**“This will do. We must use it smoothly and effectively while attacked. Attack us.”**_

Hawke paled and lurched away from us, stumbling several steps away.

I forced my fingers to let go of the big sword and scooped her into my arms again as the thud echoed. Her breathing was harsh, and I tried to soothe her. “Shh, love. You must remember Carver sparring like that and I remember many a hot, summer hour watching trainees at the Vigil, sweating as Oghren made his little comments about them.”

Taking a deep breath, Hawke whispered, “Fine, but we have to find some kind of sticks for me. I don't want to stab you, it would kind of ruin all I've been working for.”

“Can't say that I want to be stabbed either, love.” I asked Justice, _Satisfied?_

He was quiet after that.

We resumed the climb to the next village along the road, it wasn't our goal but they could confirm that it was the next and last village. A storm and snow kept us there for nearly a week. All the barns here had no open space we could use, so we left as soon as we could. Hallowdingle was the kind of tiny village I'd passed through many times, but the fenced and snowy fields in flatter spaces, barns and homes were dug partly into the hills.

The inn had only one room and a large sign saying _'The Bandit and Dog Inn'_ that looked like it had been painted by a child. There was only a tiny shrine to Andraste attached to one of the farm houses, but it was so small I wasn't sure it could hold the entire village. It looked like a good place to spend the winter.

Hallowdingle had that amusing name, a few score buildings and maybe a couple of hundred people living there. It was a harsh place much like the little I remembered from the Anderfels, with small farms and a couple of dairies that had storehouses built into the hills for the aging cheese that they traded.

Visitors usually stayed with relatives or in the single room one farm had, and they were not happy to see strangers. They had a brisk discussion when we arrived, about whether they could afford to feed us for the entire winter. Some villagers were also very suspicious of a couple of mercenaries. Finally I claimed friendship with the Warden Captain in Orzammar, and that finally tipped Kortas into offering us room and board. Using the threshing floor of their barn was another fee, but Sebastian had fattened our purse even more than the Proving had.

Two mercenaries could rest and retrain there with little interruption, even if I wasn't looking forward to it.

First we had to settle in as Brana and Heysal into the small addition to the rambling ancestral farm building, for the only room at the inn. Our room was nice enough and backed up against rear of the huge fireplace in their common room.

When Hawke saw the bed with its curtains closed away from the warm stone, she dumped her pack and took a running leap to land on it. Plain and sturdy, it barely creaked. I put our lamp down on the table in a hurry before taking Ser Mew off me and putting him on the floor.

Hawke looked up at me with a grin. “What else are we going to do this winter?”

Fumbling a little with the straps for my armor as I tried to hurry, my smile was a little forced. The cold and wet leather made this armor much slower than my own to remove. “Not much if I can't get this off.”

Hawke sat up on the side of the bed and started to grin at my bumbling. “I see your point. Let me help you and then...”

“Oh, yes! Help me, _help me,_ love. _Save me_ from this terrible armor...” I grinned back and knelt in front of her, stretching for a kiss.

She was opening my buckles and straps and cursing the tangle I often made of them. Hers was more familiar to me, this was a set she wore years ago.

Paws and Mew settled on the other side of the bed, just to avoid our armor.

We'd had either company or the cramped confines of our tent since we left the dwarven thaig, and this was the first time in far too long that we were alone in a real above-ground bedroom. I looked down at her lying there, trailing my fingers down her leg. I'd always worried about Vengeance coming out when I was with Hawke if I wasn't vigilant.

The Wardens should be proud, I had to be _always_ vigilant. 

I closed my eyes for a moment. Now I could just savor this without that nagging worry in the background. My heart pounded as I climbed onto the bed along her side. Hawke traced muscle and scar with a whisper light touch, not even skipping my ticklish spots at first. But I knew hers just as well, and once we'd stopped laughing, I moved on top of her to prevent these distractions for a while. Then it didn't matter... this time without that fear of Vengeance to hold me back. 

She stirred, murmuring my name again before sleeping and I just was glad to be alive and free with her.

The next day we were shown more of the buildings of this farm by some of the children, the important buildings were attached to each other. We could move to the barn without going outside into the snow and ice. Justice looked around the space and told me that it would do.

The herd was in a lower level below us and a wagon pushed far into the corner. Light shone through small windows on the ends that looked more like arrow-slits, and a limestone wash brightened the walls of stone or wood. Hawke helped me strap that sword on for practice.

It felt much heavier than my staff.

I practiced drawing it, trying for speed while Hawke explored. The younger children of the house got bored with me and wandered off before Hawke returned.

“What? Not that interested in mucking out the stalls or milking the cows or something?” I teased her.

“Not really, had enough of that back in Lothering. Not that I can't help if there's some kind of emergency, but...” She shook her head. “I'd rather go back to the forebay and fight chickens for their eggs than clean up after cattle.”

I made clucking noises as I pulled her closer, enjoying the amused annoyance in her green eyes.

_**Time to start, while there is still daylight.** _

Hawke might not have felt me react, but I was sure she heard me mutter a curse.

_\--- x ---_

**Hawke:**

The farm was much nicer than the smaller one I grew up in; I remembered struggling through the snow to the barn guided by a rope. Here I'd barely need a coat through the cooler sheds.

Anders, or maybe Justice, was studying the space we were to practice in. I muttered something, saying that I'd be back and asked Senira to help me find Kortas and the lumber room. I needed small cudgels to use in place of my daggers. I was not going to use my Bassrath-Kata for his practice. I remembered how easily that blade nearly gutted Sebastian, and I _would not risk_ doing that by accident to Anders. Kortas's partner did woodworking here, so she made a rough one that was good enough, but she could do more over the next week.

When I got back to Anders, he had stopped practicing his draw and seemed abstracted. His joke made me feel better about the idea of fighting them. I thought he... they were free now, but this was a little too like my nightmares.

His chicken clucking stopped and a small flash of light flared. His mumbled curse was impossible for its glowing target.

When I looked up the light had lessened to just the bit about the eyes, like in the Fade version of the Gallows. 

“ _ **We must start, to assess his skill.”**_ The embrace was slowly loosening and then his arms fell away.

I had to swallow as I drew my wooden cudgels; I really didn't want to do this.

He reached back and drew Celebrant much more smoothly than I'd managed for months, levering into a horizontal swing that gained speed.

Anders whispered, “No...” as I rolled away.

I moved behind them automatically and stabbed for the kidneys, bruising hard by long practice. I wanted to stop at his cry, but Justice jabbed back at me with the long hilt of the sword.

It was only a glancing blow, but I had to jump back and try to merge into the shadows until my head cleared. If I tried to roll again, I thought I would retch.

His eyes only had a slight glow instead of his warm brown, not that visible in the winter-blue daylight streaming in. I moved slowly to the side, keeping quiet as he was squinting and looking for me.

I'd just about decided that he needed a headache too, when he spun the little bit more to face me and took the one step for me to be inside his swing. With a shout, he swung the blade overhead and down at me.

I froze, disbelieving, seeing the fear in Anders' eyes.

Next I was staring up his nose from the floor, feeling... wrong. He was looking in my eyes without quite meeting them.

“Shh, Brana. Drink this.” The stink of a healing potion echoed through my head feeling itchy. I turned my face away.

When he pinched my nose, I tried to hold my breath without opening my mouth. My glare I hoped had the force of ten. 

But I had to breathe and the potion was fed to me. I was floating in the river too much to fight more than that, and I felt more healing. Everything came more into focus.

I stopped trying to spit it out, and muttered about this being revenge for when Merrill and I did it to him. I realized that I wasn't smelling the tang of blood. “What was that?”

“He wanted to practice...” Anders said, still worried.

Suspicious, I asked, “Did you have a potion too?”

Evading my eyes still, he shook his head.

I looked around and no one was here, not even our pets. “Fix it... or no more.” I'd let them stew on that, I didn't care what they thought I'd withhold but the importance was the same.

They glowed a little and his posture lost a little of its stiffness.

Lifting me up a little closer, they spoke very quietly into my ear. _**“We still must practice on dangerous targets. I will be more careful until he can handle a skirmish.”**_

“No more smiting my pretty bird,” Anders added, his voice very tired, as he lifted me up to my feet so we could go back to our room.

We didn't do that much the first few days, I helped with some of the chores around the farm; it seemed almost peaceful to do that following so many years after Lothering and living in Hightown with servants. One on the littles, Jak, started following me around and showing me his favorite spots high up inside the one barn and his favorite calves. 

Older ones wanted stories about the places we'd fought, they were old enough to think a couple of mercenaries were romantic, even if we weren't Orlesian cavaliers like they also admired. I had many stories about bandits and Qun, but they were much more interested in Ostagar. The Free Marches just weren't as fascinating as hearing more than rumors about survivors of the Blight and a few stories I knew about the Gray Wardens in the Vigil. I didn't know much about Denerim, and I borrowed from one of Varric's books and things mentioned by Anders and Sigrun. 

Anders, with Justice prodding him, practiced with the sword. Even if they were developing a rapid increase in skill, he was in a foul mood after every session and pored over the handful of books we brought with us and recorded some of his own notes in a journal. That soothed him. I suspected he wanted to read my journal too out of sheer boredom.

All these things took days to settle, but my realizing that it was almost Haring came much sooner. We'd only arrived so few days before Haring. The holiday was always hard as so many memories of my family were from holidays. My newer memories were of friends, all far away now. My only consolation was that I was on slightly better terms with Isabela and Sebastian than before. Varric and Fenris, not so much. Bethany, I wasn't that sure. She sounded almost friendly after we left Kirkwall, but after so many years of silence and bitterness, which was my sister really?

By the night before Haring, I climbed up into the barn to brood alone for the evening. I didn't want Anders to worry. When I came back to our room, he was asleep with a book fallen onto his chest. I was still feeling low because I had no gift for him; the only trade product they had here was cheese. He wasn't _that_ fond of cheese.

I undressed and joined Anders under the covers, curling up along his side. He woke up only enough to put an around me and give me a sleepy kiss.

Haring morning, and I hadn't slept that much. It was typical for me, though it was usually due to excitement. I watched him sleep in the dim light of our room, frustrated that I had no gift. I'd always put much thought into my gifts. He'd had so little in his life and I'd always wanted to make it up to him.

As he slept, though, he must have had another nightmare. His eyes were flickering about and his grunts and breathing had shifted. I was almost sure it was a dream with a fight, probably darkspawn again. He didn't wake, even if it sounded like bits of battle cries or curses in tone... and then his face drooped and his shoulders shook.

I'd been afraid to wake him, but it looked like he was almost weeping. So I woke him.

Surging out of the Fade in a rush, Anders grabbed my shoulders in both hands, painfully gripping me. “Dera. Dera, are you a ghost to haunt me here in the darkness? No feathers or sky for me ever again.”

Trailing a kiss over his nearest cheek, I told him, “No. There's snow and daylight on the other side of the wall. We're safe enough here.”

Sagging his relief, his grip loosened and slid down to my elbows. “It's only Haring, right? I dreamed it was days later and I missed it because I had to find you in the dark.”

Tapping the end of his nose, I assured him as I smiled. “Yes, it's Haring and quite boring here. No Deep Roads, no demons, and lots of snow.”

Only holding my hands now, Anders' smile was more real. “Happy Haring, love.”

“Happy Haring, Anders.” I spoke his name in only a whisper. I didn't want to use the name that wasn't him for this. I couldn't hold the smile when I said, “I couldn't think of anything to get you here.”

His face turned wistful. “Love, what you got me this year is a hundred Harings' worth of gifts. I'm free of Vengeance. I wish I could give you something that amazing, but magic can't restore your family.”

I moved closer to put my arms around him and my head against his chest, so I could feel his steady heartbeat. “I know. It just feels kind of empty here.”

With his arms now around me, Anders murmured, “You deserve the best, my love, so much I don't even know where to start.”

“Stay with me, until the day we die.” I knew right away that this time it came out pathetic, unlike the first time in Kirkwall, and my heart twisted in fear again.

Holding me tight, Anders' voice broke a little as he answered, “I will try, love, but I don't know what will come.”

That didn't help with whatever I needed to hear.

We were the last to reach the large kitchen for a festive meal. Kortas and the other adults smirked at our tardy entrance. They probably thought a wedding was in the air, but I doubted Anders would even identify the tenor of any comments.

There was some gift giving, of things we'd found: a larger basket for Ser Mew, scarves, fire cured cudgels for me, and several beads or small child tokens. We'd made small pouches of coins for each of the younger ones, useful for later apprenticeships if they needed or sweets from a trader.

Later when we were all full from the feast, one of the youngsters cut herself badly while doing cleanup. Anders admitted to knowing battlefield bandages and potions when an aunt worried about her skill.

Pressed for help as the nearest wise woman was houses and snowdrifts away, Anders had only a single potion in his belt. Enough to slow the bleeding, he called for materials to stitch it shut. 

I'd given only slightly edited stories of the kinds of injuries he'd cared for after battle or accident, with the jest about he wasn't that good with the blade. Apparently enough had spied while we practiced, that we only got laughter.

When the girl walked away to carefully wash up, her aunt asked to be taught about healing while we were here. For weeks, Anders taught her about how to treat common injuries, and how to make a couple of the simpler potions from a recipe copied from his one herbal. I listened too, while slowly whittling down a stick.

This is what he should have been, the healer for a village or small town. No fuss or bother, unless something stupid or violent visited and he'd get to burn or freeze them. He belonged here much more than I. What did a village need a rogue and sometime assassin for? Many evenings I had retreated to Jak's hiding space. Merrill and even Flemeth said it, change followed me, but it was so rarely anything good.

After Anders' student had carefully removed the stitches from the healed wound and they left, Anders spoke tentatively. “You only have to ask, love. I'd be glad to teach you.”

I was surprised at his offer and couldn't decide what to say. “I don't want you to think you aren't needed.”

“There's only so much my healing can do, love, it can't hurt.” He grinned and leered. “That's not a problem, you only keep me around for my body.”

I rolled my eyes and could feel warmer as he moved closer.

When I relaxed into his arms, he pulled us over to sit on the bench. The silence got tense when I couldn't find anything else to say, only keeping my eyes closed.

“Love, what's wrong? If you keep practicing like this you will be soon able to out-brood the elf...”

Shaking my head, I didn't know how to explain. “Nothing's quite wrong. Maybe I thought I could go back to Lothering someday, but I can't.” I didn't want to feed Justice's expectations, but I had spent the years in Kirkwall earning money and trying to make things a little better. I had nothing to do here. And couldn't avoid sounding like a child. “There's nothing here for someone with me... I'm bored.”

I felt stupid even as I said it.

He was silent for a moment, but then kissed me thoroughly and looked me in the eyes. “Believe me, Hawke, this will pass. You have worked to try to hold Kirkwall together for nearly ten years with little assistance and no authority, far less than the other places I've seen this. After all the destruction I saw in Amaranthine and even the ruins in Denerim, survivors would become listless despite all the rebuilding they labored over every day. They recovered after a while. Kirkwall as it was, was doomed from the time Meredith became the Knight-Commander and Elthina would not curb her. Orsino became a blithering idiot, attacking not only us, but some of his charges who had fallen. Sooner or later, essentially the same things would have happened. Maker knows, you tried to help.”

I knew all this, but this wasn't quite filling the black hole.

“Hawke.” Anders spoke firmly while cupping my jaw in both hands until I looked at him and his now worried eyes. “In spring we'll move on and find others to help, Alienages or slave pens or deserted road. Our time here is a gift from the Maker, and I want to cherish it and you as long as we can. Do you still want to share even the boring times with me?”

“All the times, for the rest of our days.” I hugged him as tightly as I could, and Anders' brown eyes lightened in relief even as he grunted from the strength of my embrace. “I _suppose_ I can manage a few months in almost an isolated cabin with you.”

Grinning again, he added, “I _suppose_ I can manage a few months in almost an isolated cabin with your mabari...”

_\--- x ---_

_A/N: Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated._

_Cover art adapted from photo by lcm1863 on Flickr, used under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic._

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.
> 
> Cover art adapted from photo by lcm1863 on Flickr, used under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic. Cover art is at: http://img198.imageshack.us/img198/333/awintersinterlude.jpg


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